


Redemption

by Jane Elliot (JaneElliot)



Category: The Quick and the Dead (1995)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-28
Updated: 2010-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneElliot/pseuds/Jane%20Elliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after she rode off with her vengeance satisfied, Ellen returns to Redemption. Ellen/Cort. Written for the 2008 Yuletide fic exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption

Cort dreams of the day that Ellen left him behind. Surprisingly, the dreams aren't nightmares, though considering his life perhaps that is to be expected. Any day that ends with the bad men dead and the good men (and woman) standing is a positive memory, if only for its rarity.

In his dreams, she stands tall and walks easily, as if there isn't a bullet in her shoulder, as if she shouldn't be on the ground, writhing in agony. Gunfighters in the West learn how to endure levels of pain that would bury the soft city men from the East, but a bullet in the shoulder is nothing to scoff at. Losing an arm is a distinct possibility, and the chance of getting back full mobility is nearly non-existent.

You wouldn't have known it from watching Ellen, however. She hadn't even bothered to wait for Doc Brown to dig the bullet out of her shoulder; she just hauled herself on her horse one handed and rode out of town.

That was two years ago.

Cort still dreams of her.

**Redemption**

Defying all expectations, especially his own, Cort was still the sheriff of Redemption. He'd initially taken the job as an act of mercy; the death of Herod left a power vacuum in the town and nearly every member of Herod's gang attempted to fill the gap. Most of them ended up dead - no matter how careful Cort was to avoid a killing shot, infection could bring down the strongest man. This was especially true in Redemption since Doc Brown died a few months after Ellen left and no one had come to town to take his place. Frankly, Cort suspected the townsfolk of treating the gunmen with tainted water, and in his heart he couldn't blame them. These poor souls had been oppressed, brutalized, and murdered for years, and short lives made for long memories.

The word was finally beginning to spread, however: Redemption was becoming tamed, one bullet at a time, and was no longer easy pickings for bandits and outlaws.

More positive changes were starting to become visible as well, as the money the cattle ranchers brought each time they passed through started to accumulate. Two new restaurants had opened, one catering to the locals and the Mexicans, and a more elegant establishment that primarily attracted passengers from the stage that stopped to water the horses at noon each day. Now that the general store wasn't buying strictly to meet Herod's needs, there was plain food available in abundance, which meant bodies gaunt from years of deprivation grew a little plumper. Without gunmen using the town center for shooting practice, the public well became popular and faces and clothes became cleaner.

This town was turning into a nice place to live, Cort realized one day as he walked out into the main drag to meet the coming stagecoach. It was a surprising revelation, but one that sparked a flame of pride inside of him and he had a small smile on his face as he greeted the coach driver and opened the door for the travel worn passengers.

"Such service," the final passenger said as he handed her down. Her husky voice was low and just slightly mocking.

Not to mention hauntingly familiar. Cort's eyes widened as he took a second look at the woman, taking in her high-necked dress, her neatly pinned hair, and her pristine white gloves. No, it couldn't be her.

Then she lifted her eyes to meet his and he knew. "Ellen," he breathed.

"Surprise," she said dryly.

Surprise indeed. Even more of a surprise was the coachman calling him for assistance to lift a heavy trunk to the ground. As the rest of the passengers had already gone off to the restaurant for a quick meal or to the store for food to last them until the next stop, there was only one person the trunk could belong to, as impossible as that was to believe.

"Stop staring," she said with a smirk and walked off in the direction of the hotel, leaving Cort to stand by her trunk looking like a fool.

Over her shoulder, she called, "You can pick me up for dinner at 7:30."

Cort let out a soft chuff of laughter and shook his head as he walked back to his office.

ooo

Cort arrived at the hotel right on time, feeling self-conscious in his newly laundered suit and freshly shaved face. The sidelong looks he was getting from Horace didn't help, though they weren't unexpected. While Cort had finally accepted that he was never again going to be a priest, there were a few rules he was finding harder to give up than others. The fact that the only available women in town were the whores went a long way in minimizing temptation.

Ellen, though. Ellen was different. He would never forget the one incendiary night they had shared together, when Ellen had saved him from being raped by the whore that Herod's men had brought in. She'd cleared the room and shoved him against the wall, but she left that first step, that first kiss, to him and that had meant everything.

He felt himself hardening at the memory, which made him even more self-conscious as Ellen chose that moment to sweep into the room. She was wearing an evening gown, the likes of which hadn't been seen in the town since the days of Herod: low-cut but elegant, with bunches of skirt skimming the floor. It was a dark blue and made of a silky material that Cort knew would snag against his calloused fingertips but would be so soft against the back of his hand.

"You're early," Ellen said with a smirk.

"You're late," Cort shot back.

Ellen's smirk softened into a smile that quickly grew conspiratorial. She leaned in a bit and whispered, "Pity this town doesn't have a clock tower to tell us the exact time."

Cort just shook his head at her audacity and held out his elbow like his mother had taught him to, so many years before that he'd almost forgotten. Ellen hesitated, looking a little lost, before carefully placing her hand on his arm. "You don't have to be polite with me, you know," she murmured as he led her out of the hotel.

"Maybe I want to," he whispered back.

She frowned at that, and didn't say anything else as they made their way to the town's fancier restaurant. They were both silent as they sat and were still silent after their orders had been taken.

Cort was hunting around for a topic with increasing desperation when Ellen suddenly laughed. "We never did talk much, did we?"

"Not a good time for talking," Cort admitted. "Didn't mean I didn't have things to say."

"Then say them now."

Cort opened his mouth and nothing came out.

"Not as easy as it sounds, is it?" Ellen asked, amusement running through her smoky voice.

Now that was a challenge, and Cort never backed down from a challenge. His eyes narrowed as he asked bluntly, "So where did you go, when you left here?"

Ellen cocked her head, but Cort knew she'd never run from a challenge either, so he wasn't surprised when she answered, "St. Louis."

"St. Louis," Cort said doubtfully. "With a bullet in your shoulder?"

She shrugged. "I went to a doctor in Santa Fe and got fixed up first. Once I was well enough to travel, I went to St. Louis." Looking like it was an effort to continue, she added, "I have family there."

That was tempting, but Cort didn't want to push too hard too soon, so he merely asked, "How's your arm?"

"Aches when it's cold," she admitted. "Your hand?"

"Hurts like hell when it rains."

They smiled at each other, a little of their old solidarity returning. Their food was served and the next few minutes were taken up with steak and potatoes and fresh biscuits. "The town's doing well," Ellen commented as she buttered a bite of bread. Cort doubted she'd been able to get butter last time she was here, much less steak.

"It is," Cort said, feeling another surge of pride at the thought.

"Do you often meet the stagecoach?" Ellen's voice once again carried a hint of mockery, which Cort didn't remember from when he knew her last. It was a far cry better than the sharp edge of barely suppressed rage that had underscored all of her words two years before, though, so Cort just smiled at her and answered in the affirmative.

"People feel more comfortable knowing there's a sheriff in town," he explained. "And comfortable people spend more money."

"Clever," she said, and she sounded like she meant it.

Cort shrugged. "The better the town does, the better it is to live here." He took a deep breath. "Is that what you plan to do? Live here?"

"I'm thinking about it," she said, pushing aside her plate. "Not sure what I'd do, though. Not a lot of opportunities for a woman out here."

"I noticed you were wearing a dress. Any particular reason?"

"Turns out I have a reputation," Ellen said with a sigh. "And I got tired of living up to it. You finished?"

Cort glanced at his plate; there was still food left, but he was finding this conversation more interesting. "Sure."

"Great," she said, standing up. "Let's go to the saloon. I need a drink."

_Well_, Cort thought. _Apparently some things never change._

ooo

Whatever Ellen had been doing in St. Louis, it hadn't been improving her tolerance for alcohol. Cort was just starting to feel a bit loose when Ellen crossed the line from relaxed to drunk. She didn't fall apart as some women did when they were drinking, however. In fact, she just grew quieter and more self-contained until Cort could clearly see the dangerous gunslinger she had once been, despite the pretty blue dress and her fancy hair.

"Come up to my room," she said abruptly, and Cort felt a stirring in his loins, even as he told himself this wasn't a good idea. He didn't protest as she led him up the stairs, however, and when she pressed him down into the bed, he didn't protest then either.

ooo

The next morning, Cort woke up to the sound of Ellen groaning. "Oh, God," she said. "I didn't drink that much, did I?"

"Lost your stomach for it in St. Louis," Cort said, getting out of bed and retrieving the pitcher of water from next to the basin. He poured some into a shot glass that had been left over from a previous guest. "Here, drink this."

She stared at the glass dubiously.

"Water helps," Cort told her.

Ellen didn't look at all convinced, but she tossed back the shot of water. Cort poured her another. "I'm perfectly capable of shooting you, you know," she said flatly.

Cort took the hint and put the pitcher aside. "About last night..."

Ellen glared at him. "What about it?"

"It wasn't a mistake," he said quickly.

She relaxed a fraction. "No, it wasn't."

"But I don't think we should do it again."

Ellen stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Don't tell me your scruples have come out of hiding."

"It's not that," he said, sitting down next to her on the bed. That proved to be a mistake, as it put him close enough to her long, slim legs and beautiful bare torso that he could feel the heat coming off of her.

It took him a few seconds to remember what he was saying. "Ellen, if you're going to be staying, I'd like to court you."

She snorted. It wasn't at all attractive, but Cort found himself smiling anyway. "I'm serious."

"What's the point?" she asked. "We've already fucked. Twice."

He shook his head and said, "Anticipation makes everything sweeter."

"I've been anticipating this for two years," she retorted.

"Have you?" he said mildly.

"And you haven't?" Ellen said with a smirk. "Katie says you don't visit the whorehouse and there haven't been any women coming out of your rooms."

"Katie talks a damn sight too much," Cort said with a frown. "And that's beside the point. We've got time now, Ellen. Time to do this right, and I want to do right by you."

Ellen stared at him for several seconds, then sighed. "Fine. But don't think I'm going to make it easy on you."

"God forbid," he murmured with a slight smile. "So does this mean you're staying?"

"Why not?" she said. "And you know, I've heard there's a gun shop for sale."

Cort groaned. "You're going to make my life as difficult as possible, aren't you?"

"I'll do my best," Ellen said, her lips twitching.

Cort just shook his head and carefully lifted one of her hands out of her lap. He held it in both of his for a moment, then kissed the back gently. Ellen looked taken aback at the gesture, but Cort was sure he saw a hint of pleasure in her expression.

"I look forward to it," he said with a smile.


End file.
